


HRry Can Totally One-Up Your Plague (and So Can Everyone Else)

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Series: HRry Can Totally One-Up Your OTP [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Mama Rory's Cure for Everything by Dinnertime, Mostly Gen, Multi, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: Team Flarrow, the Rogues, Reverb, and Music Meister are dropping like flies.





	1. HR

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing something else, but I don’t get sick that often, so I had to jump on the inspiration while I can. Plus, I like the idea of whiny!everyone.
> 
> This was originally gonna feature just Harry & HR falling ill, but I’m miserable; therefore, everyone else must suffer with me. Plus, the initial caregiver falling ill is the most stereotypical ending to a sickfic ever, so ta-da. Everything after chapter 2 is due to my literary sensibilities insomuch as they can be called “literary” or “sensibilities”.
> 
> Chapter titles are the narrator. I recommend reading this in "Entire Work" mode since most of the chapters are three paragraphs long. Save yourselves the trouble of clicking "Next Chapter" every ten seconds. Honestly, it's probably best to think of this as a series of semi-connected sickfic drabbles.

You find your bae sprawled across the couch with his face buried in a silver-and-white striped throw pillow. His toned arm has become a noodle in his effort to cross the chasm between his black corduroy cot and the coffee table.

“Awww,” you coo, “what’s the matter, handsome?”

He looks up at you and shatters, “....I can’t reach the remote!”

His wonderfully-chiseled head promptly flops back into the cushion. Caitlin’s house call lasted long enough to force-feed him Pepto-Bismol. His symptoms include sulfur breath, stomach agony, dying animal moans, pallid pallor, and helplessness. He struggled so hard every day to be everyone’s pillar that he had no clue how to let anybody piece him back together when he crumbled. You have no clue how he managed to wander into the living room on his own. He’s basically giving birth right now.

Jesse lugged him home after he hurled at a Rogues heist due to a blow from Piper. A punch from Hartley freakin’ Rathaway affecting you’s the equivalent of getting blackout drunk from a shot of water. He wasn't even emitting vibrations from his gauntlets, he just straight up punched your bae.

You hand him the remote. His hand has no gripping power. He stares at it, calculates the impossibility of retrieving it, and whimpers into the cushion. He perks up once he hears Indy’s whip cracking. His tears dry and his sniffling subsides while you journey to the bedroom. You swap his cushion for a proper pillow. He winds your thickest, fluffiest blanket around himself as tightly as possible. You peck his forehead and set about to cook up some soup.


	2. Harry

A week after you recover from what soon becomes known as the Plague of 2017, you find your wordsmith camping out by the toilet.  A few encouraging back rubs help him expel the last of whatever whipped up a tornado in his stomach.  You gently carry your wordsmith back to bed and call Snow.  While you wait for her to arrive, you weave your fingers in his hair and lather him in vividly luxurious petting.  He smiles dopily at the attention before melting into snore-ridden rest.


	3. Caitlin

You hear Indiana Jones’s theme song, yet your arm cannot for the life of you crawl out from underneath the covers. Ronnie comes in from brushing his teeth, worry bloating his eyeballs as he drops to his knees beside you and feels your burning forehead, “Cait, what’s wrong???”

“I can’t reach my phone,” you moan.

He forwards the call to Henry and spends the rest of this nightmarish day lavishing you with cuddles, tissues, and soup.


	4. Len

Baez confined Clyde and Axel and Lisa to bedrest, Mark’s taking care of his brother, James is taking care of his son, Mick took a breach to Starling to take care of his partners, and you only paused taking care of your sister to hold a Rogues meeting. Granted, it’s just you, Baez, Bivolo, and Hartley. It doesn’t escape your notice that Hartley’s shifting in his seat, contorting himself, and face-planting into the table to alleviate as much pain as possible. If this were any other day, folks would be rolling their eyes and giggling at whatever they imagined you’d stuck in his ass; but amidst the Plague of 2017, it’s clear as ice that the source of his pain is in his stomach.

Hartley drags himself out of the room and crawls into the bathroom across the hall. The best soundproofing in the world can’t suppress his throat’s recital: Vomit in D Minor. Baez groans before slogging through another rendition of the process of force-feeding Pepto-Bismol and teleporting the Plague of 2017’s latest victim to bed. She’s likely pre-sick herself, and Bivolo isn’t looking so hot either, so you officially call off the meeting early.

You spend the rest of your day taking care of your sister and your boyfriend. They’re up and chirping by the time this goddamn bug KOs you.


	5. Mick

“How the heck did we get sick? We haven’t been to Central in weeks!” bleats Felicity. She and Ollie are nested under the covers of their king-sized bed. Ollie groans low and incoherently in response, to which Felicity squints at him and asks, “Did you just say ‘Cisco birthed two’???”

“No!” Ollie goes on the defensive. “I said—I said... I don’t even know anymore....”

He slumps back in his pillow, yet they both perk up upon your return from whipping up two fresh bowls of Mama Rory’s Cure for Everything by Dinnertime. That’s how you know this bug’s bad; it’s been torturing them for two days now. At least they can feed themselves today. It was a coordination nightmare to feed them at the same time.

“Yeeeeeeeees,” cheers Ollie as you settle in the middle when they lap up the last drop. You wrap an arm around each of them.

It’s not until y’all have been snuggling in silence for several minutes that it finally occurs to Felicity to wonder aloud, “Did you just say ‘yees’???”

It takes Ollie even longer to process what she said and reply, “Ehhh?”


	6. Francisco

“How the hell did I get sick!? I wasn’t even on Earth1!!!” you snarl at your apprentice after he finishes ferrying termites around. He’s also your boyfriend, but that information gets lost amidst the havoc wreaked on your brain by the Plague of 2017. “I hate you!”

“No, you don’t,” he says calmly as he brings you some chicken chowder concoction he and the rest of his universe’s band of lunatics swear by.

“I hate life!”

“No, you don’t,” he sings.

“Kill me now,” you say at the prospect of consuming that crap. You are a god—the most feared entity in your universe—there is no way in hell you are allowing any such slop to enter your body. “I have plenty of knives in the kitchen. Grab one and slice my throat with it. Hell! Vibrate me apart if you can; it’ll be the most progress you’ve made all month!”

....Okay, fine! Maybe there’s something to swear by after all: how delicious it is!

You are so punishing him for his arrogant smirk when you’re healthy though. Only one person’s allowed to smirk arrogantly in this relationship, and he’s not it!


	7. Henry

“How did I get sick??? I’m a speedster!” your son whimpers with a fever of 41°C. Any normal person would be dead, but he’s supposed to run on about 38 anyway, so it really is just a fever for him. “My immune system—”

“Is not efficient enough to knock out the Plague of 2017,” you brush his bangs out of his eyes.

You’re surprised it hasn’t happened sooner: a virus mutating to thrive in his body. Unfortunately, mutating medicine to thrive in his body has proven elusive so far. Fortunately, the earlier victims have recovered on their own, so you feel confident leaving him in his girlfriend and boyfriend’s care in order to attend to Ronnie and Francisco. Cisco has warned you in advance that his boyfriend is having none of it. Eddie swarms to Barry’s side to take the morning shift by the time Cisco whisks you off to the Snow-Raymond household.


	8. HFE

“How am I sick? I’m omnipotent!” whines a ginger.

“Cuz I thought it’d be hilarious,” you grin as you pop in a DVD. Stupid Netflix taking down all your favorite shows.... You switch on subtitles and select his favorite episode. Grodd, Black Manta, Clock King, Black Canary, Aquaman, and Arrow commence kicking their legs out. A smile curls across your face at the thought of letting Aquaman wreak havoc on superflarrowverse, but fellow AO3ers might consider it OUTRAGEOUS! even for you.

Soon, the titular villain steps out of the shadows to belt out some power chords, “ _[The Music Meister!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_q1SdaWLlw)_ "

“Oh hey, it’s the cool version of me!” says your companion.

You pause the show to tell him, “I think you’re cool.”

“Aww, shucks; you’re so kind,” he uses your shoulder as a pillow and adds, “when you’re not complaining about stuff.”

“Hey! Me complaining about stuff has given us Music Meister’s Medley of Multiverse Mayhem, K9, and How to Not Get Your Ass Kicked by the Legends!”

“Where’s AO3’s return to sender button?” he grins. You know he’s joking, so you allow sarcasm to lace your laughter.

The End!!!

 _I’m the Music Mei_ —

*cough hack cough*

Go back to bed.

....Okay....

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this :3 enjoy what you do here & everywhere :D


End file.
